Dark City is a masterpiece. Of what, though? Ah, that is not so difficult a question to answer.<br /><br />Alex Proyas is most famous for his rendering of The Crow, a noir-influenced comic book adaptation turned bloodfeast. Its rough, canted hues and heavy silhouettes focused that work into a study of the virtues of revenge and the vices of redemption. Fast-forward four years, and Proyas sheds the inbred angst in a quest to reinvent science fiction. What he has created is mature and frightening, a singular vision that should rightly be compared to such films as Fritz Lang's Metroplolis and Ridley Scott's Blade Runner.<br /><br />The plot begins with an introduction by Kiefer Sutherland: the Strangers, an alien race, are all but extinct, and in order to prolong their lives they are studying humans in hopes of unlocking the secrets to the eternal soul. Sound cheesy? That's because it is -- but then again, so was "Blade Runner," with its replicants' difficulties grappling with a conscience. John Murdoch is the object of their obsession for the duration of the movie, as he has achieved the ability to "tune," meaning he can reshape the physical world purely at will. But Murdoch's memory is murky -- he doesn't know whom to trust, if anyone. All he knows is that he needs to get to Shell Beach.<br /><br />The plot is pretty straightforward, simple and uncomplicated. But this movie is not self-contained like, say, The Matrix was; this is not a plot-driven hypothetical. Dark City is a vision, a cinematic language of noir imitating sci-fi and vice versa. It is complete in that it is a thorough visual treat: ominous, foreboding set pieces loom; and cityscapes blend and diverge. It is a world wholly unique yet still hauntingly familiar. It is a chamber drama, marrying existential paranoia with hardboiled mystery.<br /><br />So what kind of masterpiece is Dark City, really? A visual masterpiece? Certainly. But it's more than that. It's a reimagination of our world, and a new way to contemplate the dilemma of humanity -- as I heard it put in a song recently: "Do you know where the self resides/ Is it in your head or between your sides?" Proyas doesn't pretend to know or give the answer, but it might have something to do with Shell Beach.